


dear little sweetheart

by planetundersiege



Series: The Twisted Past Of The Radio Demon [2]
Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Alastor - Freeform, Blood Drinking, Blood and Torture, Cannibalism, Eating Raw Meat, Gen, Gore, Hazbin Hotel - Freeform, Kidnapping, Murder, Oneshot, Serial Killers, Seriously check the tags, Stabbing, This is disgusting and fucked up and not for the faint of heart, psychopathy, this is fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-14
Updated: 2019-03-14
Packaged: 2019-11-18 04:17:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18113102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/planetundersiege/pseuds/planetundersiege
Summary: “Oh, dear little sweetheart, why are you fighting? Aren’t you happy? You should be thankful, not everyone is entitled to such a marvelous fate, you will die a unique death, like back in the old days. You’re going to be my lovely dinner, and I’m sure you’ll taste amazing, just look at you. Young, fit, perfect for meat with quality taste. I would say… gourmet.”





	dear little sweetheart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Luna_sharp618](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luna_sharp618/gifts).



> Ok this is gifted to Luna_sharp618 because their fics just got me into a mood to write even more Alastor, AND turn this into a series.

“That’s all for tonight sweethearts. Thanks for tuning in, I’ll see you all tomorrow with updated news of everything, including how the search for the mission woman is going. It’s been a pleasure to speak to you, have a marvelous evening.”

 

Alastor pressed the button with a smile on his face, and got out of his seat. He loved his job, the immense feeling of talking to his audience, it always made him feel so alive, a thing only one other thing could compete with. Yes, there was one thing he loved more than being a radio host, and now when his shift was over, he would be on his way.

 

Like always, the man began to walk home, waving and greeting everyone, always with a smile on his face, he was really beloved around his neighborhood, and countless of women always wondered if he would make their acquaintance at a picture show, but he always declined. There were only two things he truly loved, and romance was not one of them, the mere thought appalled him, it was gut wrenching and disgusting, and primitive. He loved himself too much to engage in such a pitiful and awful activity.

 

As he passed the baker, he asked if he wanted to buy some bread, but he politely declined. After all, he was already set when it came to today’s dinner. But, it was so nice and thoughtful of him to ask, he really had a soft spot for the baker and was quite fond of his bread, and wouldn’t take his life until a very special occasion came up.

 

The moment he arrived outside of his house, he let out a relieved sigh as he retrieved the key, and unlocked the door. The sound of cogs turning that was so familiar, and as the door opened, and the familiar scent of his own house was all he could smell, he truly relaxed. No place like home after all, right?

 

Yes, especially when today was a special occasion that he had longed after for hours, it was finally time, time for his true color to shine, for him to produce a beautiful piece of art, drink the most heavenly nectar known to man, eating the most exquisite dish, while listening to his own private symphony consistent of frightened whimpering and crying.

 

He looked over at his basement door, yes, he would be down in a minute, but first he would put on some jazz on his grammophone. Even though terrified screams was the most wonderful music for his ears, his ordinary neighbors did not feel the same, and after all, he did not want to get caught.

 

After all, if he was caught, he would be forced to stop with his fun, and that was the last thing he wanted, since these moments were one of the few were he felt truly alive. Who cares if he would end up in hell? He would overthrow everyone and keep playing his entertaining little games there as well, he would be feared no matter what world he was in.

 

Well, people were scared of him here too, but not  _ him _ . They knew about his glorious deeds, but no one could name him by name, he was a mystery in plain daylight. After all, no one would suspect the beloved radio host with these crimes.

 

As the jazz filled his house, it was finally time for the main event. He unlocked his basement and walked down, the only sound that was heard were that of his shoes hitting the stone ground as he walked downwards.

 

His prey had been quite, probably in a sort of half slumber, but the moment he looked into her eyes with that smile, he saw how she immediately began to wiggle around. She was tightly bounded, burns on her skin from the tight rope around her, and a bandana tied tightly around her face, making it impossible for her to move her little mouth and make sounds loud enough to attract the neighbors.

 

Just the way he liked it.

 

It always surprised him how long it took until his prey realized they were doomed, they tried to clutch onto every little string of hope left to not go insane. But what they didn’t know was that they already were insane, tricked into obeying the laws of this  _ normal _ and  _ perfect  _ society.

 

He was the only one that was sane, the rest were brainwashed. There was nothing wrong with the immense joy he felt towards pain, or the delight of blowing out a candle that represented a human life.

 

He laughed, before pointing at the bloody table in the corner of the room, along with butcher knives and meat cleavers carefully hanging on the wall, as well as the empty meat hooks in the middle of the room, and never letting go of the eye contact. He saw how the woman’s pupils shrunk, fear taking over.

 

“Oh, dear little sweetheart, why are you fighting? Aren’t you happy? You should be thankful, not everyone is entitled to such a marvelous fate, you will die a unique death, like back in the old days. You’re going to be my lovely dinner, and I’m sure you’ll taste amazing, just look at you. Young, fit, perfect for meat with quality taste. I would say… gourmet.”

 

He licked his lips while just thinking about it, and took one of the butcher knife, before walking closer. The woman’s movements became more wild and frantic, as she tried to get away from the maniac, but for naught.

 

Alastor stared at her pale naked body, before putting the cold silver skin against her thigh, before slowly making a delicate yet deep cut, causing the woman to let out a muffled scream as the beady tears streamed down her face. She was under his grip, and there was nothing she could do to change that.

 

The moment the crimson blood began to flow out of her, he was transfixed. It was so beautiful, the stream of blood, If was magic. It flow out thanks to the beating heart, and he could already imagine the metallic taste of the warm, thick liquid against his tongue.

 

Yes, he couldn’t hold back, he had to taste her.

 

So, he ran his tongue over the bloody wound, pure bliss immediately taking over as the coppery taste was all he tasted, and he hungrily lapped it all up, before putting his tongue inside of the wound as deep as he could, tasting the raw meat.

 

The woman kept on crying her salty tears, disgusted over the man currently drinking her blood with the same joy as a man stranded in the desert drinking water after days of dehydration, or a starving dog finally getting a piece of meat after not eating for a week. He  _ needed _ it, and felt so alive. He was insane,

 

He never wanted to let go, and felt his pulse speed up as the thrill and excitement ran through his veins like static electricity through a wire. He couldn’t help but nibble at her, lightly sinking his teeth into her skin.

 

The muffled scream of her sent chills down Alastor’s spine, this was the most desperate one yet, he could practically smell the woman’s adrenaline in the air.

 

Though blood was his poison, his sweet nectar sent from the gods, the unholy liquid was not enough to satisfy his twisted bloodlust alone. So, without warning, he stopped nibbling, and then sunk his teeth deeply into the wounded flesh of his prey, giving it his all.

 

His teeth easily tore through the delicate meat. He heard the woman scream, and felt the violent motion of her trying harder than every to get loose, all while Alastor’s teeth sunk deeper and deeper by the second, filling his mouth with blood, making it hard for him to breathe. Not that it mattered, he could live through a few moments of literally suffocating by blood, the pain that grew in his throat and chest was its own kind of euphoria, that mixed together with the feeling of raw power he currently possessed, made him somehow understand love. If this is what humans felt when they loved each other, he was not complaining. This was raw emotion, primitive instinct, pure violence.

 

It made him so happy, even with his mouth full of what would soon become just a slab of meat, he still continued to smile, like always. Why wouldn’t he smile, when he experienced such amazing joy? Why show weakness by not smiling in the first place? With a smile, it’s so much easier to lure the dumb easy prey into his traps, foolish as they were, they began to trust him. The beloved radio host that never had done anything wrong. It was natural selection that took its course, while he could go to bed with a full belly. The strong outlives the weak.

 

He bit down harder, and finally the meat was cut loose from the body it had once been attached too. Alastor lifted his head, feeling the warm blood run down his throat, staining his clothes. He had the chunk of meat between his teeth, and stared right into the eyes of his victim, with the smile.

 

Her mauled leg was bleeding, with every beat of her heart, he saw how a larger amount of blood exited from her exposed veins, and crimson soon stained the stone floor, replacing the dull gray, his very own artwork. If she would have survived the night, he was sure this would have turned into a magnificent scar. But, she sadly wouldn’t have the pleasant honor, because she would slowly fill up his belly, being the very thing that made him, the strong, survive.

 

The pure desperation on her face turned into utter disgust, while the tears ran down. Alastor took the flesh in his hand, enjoying the feeling of its texture as it warmed his hand, smearing it with the hot blood. He moved his hand towards the mouth, and bit. The sound as his teeth was again ripped through flesh was heard, and the divine taste of the raw meat and blood really made itself distinct as he chewed, and swallowed.

 

He wiped his bloody face with his coat, and leaned closer, mouth beside her ear. She felt his ragged breathing, and then his sadistic whispering.

 

“Delicious. My dear, your flesh is truly divine. I will enjoy devouring you, my little bunny. Don’t worry, not a single piece of your delicious gourmet flesh will be wasted. Tonight, and for many nights to come, I’ll eat like a king at a feast. Then, when there’s nothing left of you, I’ll hunt once more, and I’ll report about the next missing person.”

 

The man laughed.

 

“No one will ever realize it’s me, their beloved radio host. You ordinary humans are so dumb, so weak. You really are just puppets, and I’m the one holding the strings.”

 

As he finished, he took another bite of the extremely chewy flesh. It was hard to bite into at first, but it was so worth it. Cooked meat may be the easiest to eat, but nothing would beat the bliss of tasting raw meat and it’s warm blood, without any seasoning, like how a wolf ate it’s deer. He had a soft spot for raw meat, especially when he ate it in front of his  _ still alive  _ victims.

 

This was the woman’s last few moments in life, and she finally knew it, that her fate would be to e devoured by the psychopath in front of her, like a rare meal for the elite. This man had no remorse, no pity. When he wanted something, he got it. If he had made up just mind, you were already dead.

 

Because he was the serial killer that lurked in the shadows, silencing the people in the neighborhood one after one. And he was clever, and a quick thinker. The woman knew that this sadistic bastard would never be caught, and that she would be far from his last victim. In his hands, laid the suffering of countless of people.

 

As Alastor finished the chunk of meat, he looked down at the wound again, a great deal of blood had already been lost, and he would not let it go to waste.

 

Once again, he eagerly drank the crimson nectar, the most exquisite drink he would ever taste.

 

And once he had gotten enough, he once again took up the silver knife. He put his free hand onto the woman’s face, whispering.

 

“Thank you for having been so fun to play with. Now, it’s time to go.”

 

He jammed the knife into her chest as deep as he could, pulled out, and stabbed again. Blood flew everywhere, and quickly, she began to gasp for breath as she coughed up blood, the burning pain growing in her chest. Still, she couldn’t scream, but the pain just got worse, and black dots started to form in her field of vision.

 

His hand still touched her cheek, and suddenly, her airways were completely blocked of as the hand moved down towards her throat, and firmly grasped her.

 

As her vision faded out, all she saw was the elegant smile on her killer’s face, until the very end.

 

And as life left her body, her last breath having been taken, he immediately got to work. It would be a long night of butchering his fine goods, then he would treat himself to a nice meal.

 

And once she was gone, the cycle would repeat, and the hunter would once again look for his prey.


End file.
